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Thursday, April 23, 2167
The Gray Ward
Dragon Heights, Wyoming
At eight in the morning, a courier arrived with a king’s ransom in camera equipment. I signed for the delivery, and while a curious Garnet observed from my lap, I unpacked everything. The elegant camera backpack would see a great deal of use, especially as it featured a ridiculous number of anti-theft features. According to the internet, my father had spent several thousand on the camera body. The collection of lenses would convince just about anyone I was a professional photographer.
I had considered working a street corner for such a camera during my days as a cop.
I assembled the camera, set up the battery charger, and accepted the inevitable: I would need to get a laptop to process the photographs. To distract my kitten, I offered her milk to go along with her breakfast before texting my father that I admired his ruthless cunning, forcing me to acquire a laptop to best make use of the ridiculous camera. I also thanked him, promising I’d take plenty of pictures of his grandkitten.
His replying text informed me he would arrange for a laptop to be delivered as he had not realized I’d gone quite so far off the deep end.
Heaving a sigh, I called. When he answered, I said, “You can’t blow all your money buying me shit, Dad.”
“That might have worked with your father, but it will not work with me,” my mother informed me.
Crap. My mother must have stolen my father’s phone. “Hi, Mom. Please do not add Dad’s phone to your hoard. He needs it.”
She laughed at me. “I’ll let him keep his phone, but you’re not getting out of accepting the laptop.”
“I’m not a complete luddite. I have a tablet. You don’t have to spend all that money on me.”
“While a tablet is a good tool, we have missed several Christmases and birthdays now due to your stubborn pride and nature, so you can view it as retaliation for skipping out on the important holidays. How are you doing?”
I kept an eye on Garnet to make sure she didn’t choke on her breakfast, giggling as she purred while drinking her beloved milk. “I’m doing decently. Once I finish feeding my kitten, I’m going to take her and my camera out for some blatant tourism.”
In reality, I’d be hitting numerous birds with one stone, photographing the haunts around the brothel before checking out the shrines. The shrines would be an issue—an issue I would not discuss with my mother.
She had even more opinions than my father, and if I gave her an opportunity, she would share them all with me.
“Excellent. Your father was forced to notify me that you have acquired a carbunclo.”
My mother had probably caught him in the act of sending me the camera. While I loved my father dearly, he often failed to cover his tracks when my mother was involved. “How did you catch him in the act this time?”
“I came home to discover him bouncing around the house. As your father does not usually skip, bounce, or otherwise engage in such activities, I determined something had pleased him far beyond the norm. I stared him into submission. He confessed about your new camera. Upon reviewing the purchase, I approved his selection. So, are you going to accept a delivery of a laptop?”
“That depends on if the laptop comes when I’m home. I have plans to take this camera that mystically appeared at my apartment out on a walk today. I have no idea what the weather is like yet, but it’s the perfect day to play with this camera.”
“I know you’d always wanted a good one when working on the force, and you’d complained about sometimes never being able to get the photographs you needed. If you’re doing private investigation work, you need a good camera. Also, what’s this nonsense I’m hearing about you being anonymous in Dragon Heights?”
I foresaw a great deal of trouble in my immediate future. “I have enjoyed my privacy.”
“Just register yourself properly. I will inform Erik he cannot make use of the registrations to locate you as he should display his determination. Your father had mentioned that to me in his effort to survive my wrath.”
I rolled my eyes at the blatant bullshit my mother spouted. “I like the testing process, Mom. And it hasn’t done me any real harm.”
“You’re poor,” my mother announced, and her tone implied I had committed some form of crime.
“Yes, that is what happens when you get by picking up bounties and doing little jobs for people, Mom. What’s the problem?”
“You have a savings account. Use it.”
“I can’t without registering,” I replied.
“Register.”
“I don’t want to. I want to test in.”